- Chapter 26 -

The April showers soon gave way to the sunnier skies of summer, and a devilishly sweltering one too according to a disgruntled Miss Compton, who stayed in the shade if she was not indoors pining for winter. She spent most of her time furiously writing letters to various organizations and clubs regarding women's rights and suffrage movements.

Mrs Wheaton didn't much mind the heat, finding great joy in tending to the Rosforte gardens (the baroness cared less for flower gardens and much preferred her exotic conservatory, so she had given Mrs Wheaton full control over the estate gardens and it's staff).

Mr Wheaton and his youngest son thoroughly enjoyed the fine arts of fishing, hunting, boating, and general relaxation; while the elder Wheaton boy enjoyed more intellectual pursuits and could often be found in the library, pouring over essays and studies. John Wheaton did not require an overabundance of social activity or companionship (nor any abundance at all for that matter); when he felt the rare need for company other than his books and family, he would call on Mr Harding Sr, Mr Ritewood, or (a more recent development) Mr Routley. Once in a while he would write to Mr Thomas Harding or Mr Tarrant in Lewes, and once Katherine noticed the footman carrying out a letter addressed to Miss Grace. Katherine asked him once if he had received a reply, he said yes; whether it was a promising reply or not he did not divulge, but with respect to her brother she did not pry.

Eliza Ritewood had always been a regular visitor at Rosforte, but Katherine had noticed a significant decrease in her friend's visits of late and she had a strong and guilty feeling it had to do with a broken heart, and this is why: well into summer, after Betsey had swept off to London and the Pierponts, Katherine and Eliza had been in the gardens with Mrs Wheaton and John, having a debate about flowers. It began thus:

Mrs Wheaton had mentioned the red rose was a symbol of love while yellow was friendship and Katherine had mentioned it was a beautiful thing that flowers had such meaning and colours a language of their own.

Eliza then suggested that though it was a beautiful thing, it could cause a great deal of problems. The two others, aghast, demanded she explain how that could be so.

John spoke up then, saying if he were to pick flowers for a girl he admired, he would want her to appreciate the gesture and beauty of them, not read into it unnecessarily. Eliza nodded, agreeing that if women were to expect men to form bouquets according to the language of the flowers, then the romance would be lost.

It is at this point that it became a debate.

At some point, Katherine said to John with a laugh, 'It is a universal language! I am sure if you were gathering roses for Miss Tarrant, you would naturally gravitate to red!' The group was silent and she immediately saw her mistake. Mrs Wheaton quickly said 'Perhaps they are right, people do put too much value on the meaning of flowers.' then turned back to her work.

Miss Ritewood stared at Katherine, then stared at John. John looked embarrassed and irritated, not looking at anyone, before all but snapping 'This is ridiculous.' and leaving. 'I did not know John had a..' Eliza started. 'Oh no, no Lily, he does not..' Katherine interrupted quickly, but did not finish for she was not confident in her answer. Eliza had left soon after.

It had been two weeks since and Eliza had only come to Rosforte once, and even then for only a quarter hour in very low spirits.

Katherine, desperate, sought out her brother (an easy feat, he was in the library). After she poked about in his general vicinity for some time and glanced at him uncomfortably more often than what was natural, he finally put aside his book and looked at her in exasperation. "What is it then?"

"Well," Katherine Gray sat across from him. "I'm sorry to pry John, but I am wildly curious. Do you have any sort of understanding with Miss Tarrant or did your affections fade once you returned home?"

He sighed and leaned his head back in his chair. "If you must know, I did quite like her. I respect and admire her and she is not unattractive. But we did not share the same views on a number of things and I think she is inclined to talk too much when given the opportunity."

"Unforgivable flaws indeed."

"The latter can be, yes, all things must be done in moderation." he bristled "I'm sure your friend Eliza would agree with me."

"True, she does everything in moderation, and you two do tend to share the same views on most things."

"I suppose."

"She's very respectable, I admire her."

"Yes, as do I."

"I quite like her, I don't know what I'd do without her."

"Yes..." John began to look suspicious.

"And she is not unattractive. In fact, I consider her quite the most attractive young woman I know."

"That seems a random thing to bring up. Why are we speaking of Eliza Ritewoods merits? You and Miss Compton best not be matchmaking with me!"

"Why John! Not at all!" She exclaimed quite truthfully. "Miss Compton and I would never attempt to do such a thing to you; or Lily!" With a 'tsk' of disappointment at him she left him be. He did not pick up the book he had been reading. Instead, he sat fathoms deep in thought; until, finally, he came to a realization within himself and stood, striding outdoors. He passed through the gardens of Rosforte and into the fields towards Rosehill Park.

~~~

Katherine Gray sat in the conservatory by the birdcage, drawing under the rays of morning sun that peeked through the glass above to brighten her page. Her concentration was interrupted by a footman delivering her a letter. It was from Betsey. She broke the seal and began reading.

26 July, 1806

72 Cannon Street, London

Dearest Kat,

The past few weeks have been equal parts exhausting and exhilarating! I am sorry I have sent but one other letter since arriving, but with the season in full swing – I'm sure you understand! The first time I was in London with you and Celia was lovely, but it cannot compare to experiencing most (if not all) of the social gatherings and events here firsthand. Balls are, of course, my favorite thing to attend, I have made many new friends and my dance card is ever full (You need not fear I am turning into a flirt or getting a swelled head, I have more sense than that and still maintain a healthy amount of self-respect). Anne and I, of course, stay by each others' sides through all; she is my closest confidant and bosom-friend next to you and Celia, so alike in mind are we! I believe I will be staying late into August, and perhaps into September as well, Mama has approved it.

Here is a bit of news! We were correct in that Mr Rook is related to Miss Rook (who is now Miss Pierpont as of four days ago, I will tell more of the wedding in a moment). His full name is Claude Oliver Theobald Rook; a rather long and pretentious name, for such a thoughtful and amiable character. I have seen him often and it has become my pet project to learn more of him and crack through his bashful shell. I have managed to do so - the cracking through I mean - on a very small number of occasions, and it is the most thrilling and enjoyable victory every time I do. His wit and smile are rivaled by none, it truly brings me the purest joy. I am rambling, but I refuse to begin again on another sheet as I have already crumpled at least ten. Onto the wedding. Not much to say, it was beautiful, of course, as all weddings are. The Bride had a lovely gown, Anne's brother looked as though he might shed a tear when he saw her. Mr Rook looked quite handsome in a new waistcoat. We all clapped and smiled and threw rice like anything.

I have seen Mr Sebastien Gray and dear Eloise often, they say to send their love. Or, Eloise does, Mr Gray merely sends his regards. We are to have dinner with them and their parent's tomorrow night. Mr Gray Sr and Mrs Gray also send their love, I saw them three days past and that is when we were invited. You may see them, and Eloise, next week as it was mentioned they are leaving and would call on you on their way home. Mr Gray will be staying. I am glad for I would loath to see him go, I have grown quite used to his company.

That is all I can think of to write.

Love you and miss you my Kat!

Your Bet

Katherine folded the letter and looked for the time. It was already quarter past four. She sighed, time seemed to pass quite slowly now Betsey was away. She ascended upstairs to her chambers to add the letter to her letterbox and began writing a reply. Oh Bet, she wrote at one point in her letter. it sounds as though you will need to make a difficult choice between these two suitors in the very near future. I do not want to think of it for how lonely I would be if you were to be married off so soon. At least I still have Simon and John. Once she had finished, she found her mother and Miss Compton in the tea parlor. She informed them she was going for a walk, waving off her mother's warnings of an impending storm; saying she would not be long.

It was an uncomfortably hot day, the air as still as death. Katherine directed her feet towards the path bordering Norcastle where the walk was most shaded by flowering trees. Despite her intentions to enjoy a short walk before the storm came in she wandered some distance further than intended, ending up a good fifteen minutes from the castle when the wind began to lift and cool the air; not a minute later the sky began to drizzle. Knowing how rapidly a stormy drizzle could turn to hail and pour, she quickened her pace to a run, scanning her surroundings for any sort of shelter. The nearest she could immediately see was a small gazebo a way off the path that overlooked a lake on Routley land. The rain swelled as the storm clouds rolled in anger and Katherine ran for cover, hopping spritely over the short fence between the estates.

Reaching the gazebo, she swung inside with a gasp of relief; already soaked to her corset and strands of hair clinging to her face. She froze as her eyes landed on something laying on the benches within. A neat pile of men's clothing. She frowned in puzzlement, glancing around, then her eyes caught on the approaching figure of a man Jogging up the slope from the lake naked as the day he was born!

Katherine hesitated in panic, unsure of whether to escape into the rain or stay in shelter. The man was too close now for there to be any point in running; she plastered herself against the wide pillar beside the opening, covering her face as he rushed through the door.

After a terror-stricken minute, deducing he hadn't yet seen her and hoping he had at least put on pants, Katherine peaked through her fingers. He was not dressed, he was faced away from her drying his buttocks.

"Oh!" Katherine exclaimed in mortification, covering her eyes once again.

Brandon Routley jumped out of his skin, covering himself and spinning to see who was there. Then dressed himself with a comical level of haste while shouting "What the devil?! What are you doing here!?"

"I was caught in the rain! I'm eternally sorry for trespassing but I didn't see any shelter other than this!" She defended in consternation. "How was I to know...what are you doing here pray?? Playing the Adamite!"

"I was enjoying a bath in the lake, my nice private lake!...You may look now, that's all the clothes I brought with me."

She peeked again and, seeing pants with white shirt tucked in, slowly dropped her hands and took a seat. Mr Routley sat as well and they stayed in awkward silence, staring at the floor as the rain pounded down around them and wind whipped through creating walls of chilling mist.

"This is no better than being out in the storm." Brandon said in frustration, seeing Katherine shiver as another gale blew the rain into the gazebo; the thick mist dampened his dry clothes. "We will catch our death of a cold if we stay here and we may catch our death if we run for home. Who knows how long this storm will last...I believe it will be better to run for warmth, do you concur?"

She smiled weakly and nodded.

"My house is not quite ten minutes away if we run, how far is Rosforte?" He looked, gauging the distance, "Ten..fifteen minutes?"

She nodded, teeth clenched against the cold.

"Norcastle is closer."

"We should run for Rosforte, people might think.." she chattered, but he cut her off.

"Be sensible Miss Gray, you are soaked to the bone and turning blue. I will tell my man to prepare a carriage to bring you home once we are there." he stood and took her hand, pulling her out into the storm.

They sat shoulder to shoulder before a fireplace in his study, wrapped in separate blankets and clutching teacups brought by Routley's fussy housekeeper.

"She is sweet." Katherine commented after they had sat in silence for some time.

"Who?"

"Your housekeeper."

"Oh Mrs Aubrey. Yes she is. She's always taken good care of me."

"I must be rather lonely in this house."

"It is sometimes." He glanced at her. "Often. We never followed through with any plans for a house party - or dinner party - like you promised."

"Oh! So we haven't! We could start right now. A picnic would be lovely, in this warm weather."

"This is not what I would consider warm." he chuckled.

"You know my meaning!" she laughed, "It is summer! There are many fine days. In any case, I believe a picnic would be best to start; and first thing we will need is a guest list."

Their planning didn't get far at all for her carriage was soon ready and she was trundled home. She met her father as she entered the house for he was bundled warmly and just about to rush into the storm to search for her. She was wrapped in a great bear hug as he sighed in relief, and soon after smothered by a worried Lady Compton and near-frantic Mrs Wheaton - who was overjoyed to see her daughter well and out of the rain. Katherine was scolded for getting caught in the storm despite being warned, but she minded not and hugged her mother with a laugh, assuring she was well.